Does a columnist have a favorite columnist?
In my case, yes.
Bob Berman writes, for Astronomy magazine, a page of science mingled with humor called “Strange Universe.”
I love Berman’s column because he finds ways to turn the heavens into laughter. I’ll get back to Bob later.
Laughter has gotten me into trouble.
The only detention I ever had, from kindergarten through my senior year in high school, was for laughing. I was a few months from graduation, already admitted to the college of my choice. This was 1968, a year of sloppy clothes and violent attitudes that were supposed to signal something called non-conformity, and my non-conformity against all the non-conformity was to wear pretty dresses and sometimes even white gloves to school.
My non-conformity with non-conformity made me unpopular with the non-conformists, but the teachers pretty much left me alone. All I remember of high school is that I acted in as many plays as I could and abandoned the idea of teaching Latin because I never wanted to see the inside of a high school again.
One morning someone said something during the sacred moments of morning announcements that caused me to laugh. The girl sitting next to me in appropriate alphabetical order – the same one who when I told her I’d gotten my college admission packet said, “You could have gotten into someplace better than that” – asked me what was so funny.
My brief reply earned me a “Miss Chahey, you have a detention for talking.” I never even knew the teacher – she was only for what they called “home room.” While at that high school, I’d had my wallet stolen and had been warned by the faculty against using the bathroom because it was “too dangerous.” But I got punished for explaining a laugh.
My other trespass-while-laughing occurred on the grounds of a religious institution I shall not name here, in a country that my husband and I were visiting and that shall also remain nameless.
There was a long line of visitors to this holy place, and we passed the waiting time talking about this and that. My husband and I met waiting in a line. He said something then that made me laugh and I fell in love with him. In this line, he again said something that made me laugh.
This time, some official came over to us. “Do not laugh,” he scolded. “This is a holy place.”
As if laughter isn’t holy. Sarah in the scriptures thought it was so funny to be pregnant at 90 that she named the child Isaac – which means laughter. And the sanctuary? Let’s just say it inspired no awe from two people who love to laugh.
Back to my favorite columnist, Bob Berman at Astronomy magazine. Laughter about the stars? For me, the kid who was the founder and president of the North Star Club? Who has seen (and even lives on one of) all of the eight visible planets in our solar system? He’s my hero!
Bob wants us to know that there’s a great celestial event on the night of the 20th to 21st of this month. At about midnight, he writes, the full moon will rise to its highest until 2020. The date is also the winter solstice. And there will be an eclipse of the moon.
Something that I, as a backyard astronomer, appreciate about Bob Berman is his honesty. “People often fail to appreciate things that are free,” he writes in this month’s issue of Astronomy, “so maybe they’ll find this event enhanced through their most expensive telescope and largest 14-pound eyepiece.”
But my favorite columnist and I tell you that all you need to do as we hit the winter solstice – the day that we start to get more rather than less sunlight – is to go out around midnight, watch the moon survive another eclipse, and have a good laugh.